Writing Prompt Response: You wish to a genie that all of humanity would gain super powers. || 623 words

A bit of context first: I'm really really out of practice in writing and have been scouring /r/writingprompts and with my very very recent return here I decided to put one of the short things I wrote on there up here to get some feedback because I feel my writing really needs it. I want to improve and don't know where to start so I really need your help. Review hard and review mercilessly. Give it to me hard, fast, and dry. (This snippet was posted on the writing prompt on the subreddit, but my identity is verifiable if you're concerned about plagiarism.)

Prompt: You wish to a genie that all of humanity would gain super powers. The genie tells you this wish was granted 5000 years ago.

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"What?!" I sputtered. This had to be some sort of joke, right? I think I'd know if I had super powers - if the whole of humanity had superpowers.

In front of me, the genie chuckled brazenly. "Yup. Almost three thousand BC. Some barmy little guy just like you - big dreams and all - wished the very same thing." The genie crossed its arms, flashing a toothy grin.

I stared, jaw slightly agape. In my hands, the golden lamp warmed. My knuckles whitened. I was ready to throw the stupid thing. "You've got to be bloody kidding me. I manage to make it all this way just to have you tell me that my wish has already been granted? What kind of sick joke is this?" I'm almost shouting now, my body straining to keep itself in check.

The genie continues to stand, unfazed. I want to wipe that stupid grin of its face. The corner of its mouth twitches. "Yes."

I feel heat rise in my lungs, my heart sinking further in my chest with each racing beat. This makes no sense. The genie's a dirty liar. I wouldn't be making this god-damn wish if humans already had super powers. I wouldn't be in this bloody mess if humans had super powers. The eff-ing sham. I exhale and feel my body tremble.

"You don't believe me," the genie says. Its smile has lost its edge, but its eyes still glitter with amusement. Its watching me, I can feel it. Watching my every move. "Why don't you ask your little friend over there, the one with the freckles."

I stop. I'd damn near forgotten about Jamie. Too busy thinking about my stupid wish. But the genie did have a point. "Jamie..." I breathed through clenched teeth. I continued to stare down the genie, but out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him. He swallowed, hands pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves.

"I know nothing, I swear!" His voice rattled through the forest, coarse and deep. Leaves crackled under his weight. He didn't elaborate.

"Jamie," I said again,. The terseness was thick. I was losing my patience.

The genie watched on. I paid it no mind.

"I told you, I don't know anything," he pleaded, but I saw it - the little twitch in his right eye... The lying son-of-a-bitch!

My fingers clenched and unclenched, the lamp left to fall to the dirt. I turned my full fury towards him, expression sharpened into a glare, and words smouldering in the back of my throat. "What the hell do you know about this!" I roared.

This was my hope. This was my dream. And that lying son-of-a-bitch... I breathed in ragged gasps, my body curling forward, struggling to contain my own rage. My heart drummed against my chest, a constant, ever-speeding rhythm. It burned. It burned so much. How could he betray me like this?!

Something clicked inside of me: the soft, inconsequential flick of a lighter switch. I blinked.

. . .

Everything tasted of smoke and ash. Blearily, I blinked away the pounding in my head and coughed once, twice. My limp body ached, laying boneless among silt and dust. Around me, nothing but charred shades of charcoal-grey rising from the under-brush into blackened stalagmites that stretched into the smoky sky. I sat up, albeit unsteadily, and blinked again. An attempt to rub soot from eyes only aided in worsening the problem.

When I could finally see clearly I noticed that I was alone. Jamie, the genie - both of them gone. There was only the gold lamp, the crumbling and burnt remains of a once green and wild forest, and me, conspicuously unharmed in the centre of the aftermath.

God, what was I going to do.

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